


The One where Bucky Starts a Text Relationship with a Stranger Named Grant

by chicklette



Series: Popcorn Bucket [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Blind Date, Ficlet, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, mild food porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 06:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicklette/pseuds/chicklette
Summary: Based on LighteningStriking's tumblr prompt: Next door neighbors constantly annoyed at each other for reasons.   Turn up for a first date with someone they’ve been corresponding with online for months now - turns out it is each other!





	The One where Bucky Starts a Text Relationship with a Stranger Named Grant

**Author's Note:**

> Porn inspired by Alby. She is unapologetic.

“Rogers!” Bucky yells, pounding his fist on the wall.  “Keep it down over there!”

There’s a muffled oof, along with a few grunts, then a woman’s giggled “sorry!”

Bucky groans.  

Living in Stark tower is great, don’t get him wrong.  But the walls are nowhere thick enough, and his neighbor happens to be one Captain America, a man out of time and one who seems to be hell-bent on making up for it.

He looks at his phone.  No new messages from Grant.  Bummer.  Bucky thinks about calling him, maybe seeing if his mystery friend with the gorgeous voice and fantastic laugh can talk him down from his frustration.

But they don’t quite have that kind of relationship, and Bucky’s not sure that he’s ready to push things further.  As it stands, Grant’s become a really good friend.  While Bucky can’t discuss specifics about his job, Grant’s provided a friendly ear and some surprisingly good advice.  

Turning over and punching his pillow down, Bucky thinks again about Grant.  He wants to know what Grant looks like.  Wants to know if his outsides match his insides because Bucky’s starting to fall for the guy, and he doesn’t even know his last name.  

Another thump coupled with giggling comes from the next apartment over, and Bucky gives up the ghost and gets into a warm shower.  Maybe by the time he’s out Captain Scumbag will be done with his latest conquest.  

At least the guy’s trysts don’t go all night and day.  He usually wraps up within an hour or two, and Bucky hears him saying goodbye at the front door.  He’s never had anyone stay over that Bucky can recall.  

Who knew Captain America was such a man whore?  It’s surprising and Bucky, once upon a time, even thought about taking advantage of the situation himself, but at the end of the day, that’s not what he really wants, and his last friends-with-benefits relationship led to him being shot at.  Repeatedly.

At least he and Joey are friends now.

When the water starts to run cold, Bucky turns it off and spares a hope that Captain Scumbag is done entertaining for the night.

Two weeks later…

Bucky checks his look in the mirror one last time, straightening his tie.  He’s wearing black slacks, a silvery button up and a black waistcoat with a black tie.  “Are you sure about this?” he asks, turning to Tasha.  The nervousness that flutters in his stomach is foreign.  Self-confidence is something Bucky’s never lacked, no matter the situation.

This though…he’s never felt so nervous before.

“Almost.  Come here,” Natasha says, then approaches him with a handful of some hair cream.  She rubs it through his hair, taking it from carefully coiffed to artfully arranged.  He turns to look in the mirror.

He doesn’t hate it.

“You’re gonna knock him dead,” she says, that Mona Lisa smile on her face.

“Thanks, doll,” he tells her, then comes in to kiss the top of her head.

She’d teased him once that he had classic movie-star looks, like something out of a World War Two movie – the strong jaw, cleft chin, tousled hair.  He hopes that his date feels the same way.

It started so simply: He’d gotten a new phone when his took a bullet, and rather than wait for the SHIELD techs to reprogram all his contacts, he’d started filling them in himself.  His text to Tasha, however, was answered with a smartass comment confirming that he A) had the wrong number and B) needed to up his game if he thought any “woman worth her salt would be wooed by a line like that.”

Bucky was quick to reply:  I don’t know who this is, pal, but I haven’t tried to “woo” a woman since the second grade.  Dottie Perkins was enough to put me off girls for life.

The mystery texter replied with a laughing emoji and a confirmation that “he” was bi.

Bucky’s not sure how it happened.  Maybe he was just bored that day.  Life as a SHIELD agent doesn’t always leave him with much downtime, and if he’s been on a mission for a while, it sometimes takes him a few days to catch up from the adrenaline highs.

Either way, he’s happy for it.  Grant turned out to be smart and kind, with a wicked sense of humor that had Bucky sometimes laughing days after he’d cracked a joke.  Because he’s a SHIELD agent and not an idiot, he did ask Tasha to run a check on whoever it was he was texting.  She’d done so, and when she’d reported that his Romeo was all clear, she wore a smirk that worried Bucky ever since.

“He’s not a creep is he?” Bucky asked.  “Not like, deformed or something?”

Her laugh was high and pretty.  “Honestly, Barnes?  He might be out of your league,” she said.

“Ha!” he’d answered, all bravado.  “You’re funny.”

“We’ll see,” she’d answered, that mysterious smile back on her face.

Still, Bucky and Grant were text buddies for a few months before Grant suggested meeting for the first time.  Bucky demurred, heart in his throat, and claimed a work trip.  They both seemed to travel a lot for work, rarely at the same time.

It took Bucky a few more weeks and some prodding from Tasha for him to realize how much he likes Grant.  He likes him.  He likes him enough to want him to be real.  To be someone Bucky could…have a relationship with.  Someone he could maybe give his heart.  Someone who’d want it.

They’ve been texting for over six months before Bucky finally agrees to meet.  Tasha chose the restaurant – someplace nice, but not too fancy.  Someplace vetted – Bucky has damn near top security clearance – he always has to be aware of who he’s with and where he’s at when out in public.

“Promise me something?” Tasha says, straightening Bucky’s tie.

He looks at her, questions in his eyes.

“No matter what happens, stay through dessert.  Will you do that for me?”

Drawing back, Bucky gives her a look.  “What do you know that I don’t?” he asks.

Shrugging, she looks away.  “I know you like him.  You’ve been texting for months, and I know you’ve been talking on the phone with him.  Just remember all the things you like about him, and give it an honest chance.  Okay?”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“The crème Brulee is amazing.  Stay long enough to try it.  Now go, or you’ll be late.”

Giving Tasha one last dubious look, Bucky goes through his front door, ready to meet the guy who might just be the love of his life.

…Or Captain Scumbag.

Standing at the elevator, Bucky scowls as he notices none other than Captain America waiting next to him.

Their eyes meet, but neither says anything, both pulling out their phones rather than speak to one another.

James: OMW. :)

Bucky sends the text to the contact in his phone labeled Good Guy Grant.  They’ve never gone past first names with one another, neither of them pushing for identifying information.  At first, it seemed easier that way.  After a while, it became something of a talisman.  If they named it – if they named one another – the whole thing might come crashing down around them.

Bucky glances up to see Captain Scumbag smiling at his phone before typing something.

Probably another one of his booty calls, Bucky thinks.  Living on the same floor as the guy has been eye-opening, to say the least.  Gorgeous men and women of all types could be seen coming and going at all hours of the day and night.  Once, Bucky ran into triplets in the hall, waiting for Scuzo to open the door.  The noises coming from their lone shared wall had sent Bucky out for a run within minutes.

And it was all the time.  Late at night – early in the morning – it didn’t matter.  Bucky’s seen the guy chow down once or twice in the mess hall, and he figured that the guy had big appetites all around.  Hell, once, Bucky saw a woman of at least sixty leaving Scuzo’s apartment.  The noises that had been streaming through the wall just prior kept Bucky up for weeks after.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Bucky sees Scuzo smiling softly at his phone before typing something in.  Rolling his eyes at himself, he makes a note to himself to go to Grant’s place if the date is successful.

God, he hopes it’s successful.

.

Standing in front of the restaurant, Bucky shakes himself.  He gathers all of his courage before heading inside.  He’d planned on taking one of the Stark fleet to the restaurant.  If the date went well, he’d hoped having one of Stark’s sleek, all-electric cars would help seal the deal.

But, when Captain Scumbag punched the key for the garage, Bucky had a change of plan, choosing to take a taxi instead.  He can text Tasha and have a car waiting, but not before he sees how things go.

Approaching the maître d, Bucky looks around the restaurant.  It’s an old-school steakhouse, specializing in big cuts of aged beef, hearty sides, and, apparently, crème Brulee.

“I’m meeting a friend,” Bucky says.  “Named Grant?  Not sure if he’s here yet, I’m a few minutes early.”

“Of course, sir.  This way?” the man says and guides Bucky toward a back room.

The privacy is nice, more than he expected if he’s being honest.

The maître d opens the door and nods Bucky in, standing back and to the side.  Grant is sitting with his back to the door, and Bucky’s already breathing a sigh of relief.  He’s a big guy – broad shoulders, tall and muscular, with blonde hair.  It’s more than Bucky could have hoped for, and he feels his heart do a tumble in his chest.

Then the man turns and rises, and Bucky’s breath catches in his throat.

It’s just – from the side, it kind of looks like…oh, God.  Oh, no.

His date is Captain America.

He wants to hope that he’s somehow gotten his date wrong, the time wrong, the restaurant wrong.

But the longer he stands there, the more it all adds up.

Steven GRANT Rogers.

Who travels a lot for work.

Who recently came out as bisexual.

Who lives across the hall from Bucky.

Who is an Avenger.

And a man-whore.

And Captain fucking Scumbag.

“You?” Scumbag says, his voice almost trembling.

“How?” Bucky asks, and he knows the answer before the word leaves his mouth.

“Nat.”

“Tasha.”

“Fuck!” they both say in unison.

“Look,” Scumbag says.  “This is obviously some kind of mistake.  We don’t have to – you don’t have to.  We can just go,” he finishes, and dammit, dammit if he doesn’t look miserable.

Closing his eyes and balling his fists, Bucky groans as he comes to a decision.

“I promised Tasha I’d stay through dessert.  We’re both here.  I guess,” he says, opening his eyes, “I guess we can at least have dinner.”

“Yeah, okay,” Scumbag says, and Bucky checks himself.  Yeah, he might think the guy is scum, but…but he’s also funny and charming and sweet when he wants to be.

“I’m gonna fucking kill her,” Grant says, taking his seat.

“Yeah?  Get in line, pal.”

The two of them laugh, and it feels…fuck.  It doesn’t feel like he’s having dinner with a guy he can’t stand.  It feels like sharing a joke with the guy that’s Bucky’s rapidly been – well – kind of been…falling for.

They both order a double whiskey, neat, when the waiter comes to take their cocktail orders.

“Does that even do anything for you?” Bucky asks, curious.  He’s never spent much time with Captain America, but he’s heard plenty of rumors.

Shrugging, Grant – Steve, his name is Steve – looks at Bucky.  “Not really, but it can’t hurt?”

When the drinks arrive, they both down them in one shot and ask for another round.

The waiter, to his credit, doesn’t even blink.

The pair look over the menu, and when Bucky sees the tomahawk cut rib eye, he knows Grant – Steve – will love it.

They make small talk about the menu until the waiter returns.  He has their cocktails and a bottle of red wine on his tray.

“Miss Romanova sends her regards, and would like you to know that you dine as her guest for the evening.”

The pair roll their eyes at one another, then proceed to order the most outrageous items on the menu.

“Okay,” the waiter says, a few minutes later.  “That’s two chilled seafood platters, the gem lettuce salad for you sir,” he says, motioning to Bucky, “and the classic Caesar for you, sir.  The charred Shishito peppers, the blue cheese puffs, two full-cut tomahawk chops – medium rare each of the gentlemen - as well as the escalloped tomatoes, the Yukon gold stack, creamed corn with pancetta, and the charred artichoke with poblano aioli.  Will there be anything more?”

Steve and Bucky look at one another.

“And a bottle of champagne,” Steve says.

“Your best champagne,” Bucky says.

If he didn’t know better, Bucky would say the waiter smirked.

“Very well.”

Comparing notes, they discover that they’d both turned to Natasha to have her vet their ‘text buddy,’ and she had decided to keep her knowledge to herself.

“I don’t get it,” Bucky says.  “I mean, she knows that I –“  He cuts himself off, realizing what he was about to say.

“That you hate me?” Steve answers, picking up where Bucky left off.  “You’re not exactly subtle,” Steve says, and Bucky feels his face heat.

Shrugging, he says, “Well, you do get pretty noisy on your side of the wall.”

Flushing, Steve looks away.

The waiter arrives with plates of food, and the two of them eat in silence.

He’s disappointed, but he was prepared for that.  Sure, he’d nurtured a little hope, there in his big dumb heart, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.  But Bucky’s having a hard time reconciling sweet and charming Grant with “never bang the same person twice” Steve Rogers.  

“It’s just –“ Bucky starts, and then stops himself.

Mouth full, Steve gestures for Bucky to continue.

“Why’d you go full court press with me?  You seem like you got your hands full enough,” Bucky says.

Cocking his head, Steve surveys Bucky.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Pal, come on.  You got someone different in your place every other night.  We got thin walls.”

Steve sputters over his drink.  “You think - that’s - what do you think I’m doing over there?”

Bucky gives him an incredulous look before huffing out a laugh.  Maybe it’s Steve’s arrogance, or maybe it’s that second double catching up with him, but Bucky’s starting to feel a lot more at ease with the situation.  So what if the guy he’s been pining over the last few months turns out to be the one guy Bucky can’t stand?  He’ll build a bridge and get over it.

He’s been getting by just fine on his own.

“Let’s just say all those grunts and groans don’t leave much to the imagination,” Bucky says.  He’s suddenly eager to end this line of conversation.  “More wine?” he asks.

Steve shakes his head.  “Buck,” he says, his voice soft, and if he closes his eyes, Grant is there with him, giving Bucky that gentle reassurance that always seems to steady him.

“I’m not sleeping with all of those people,” Steve says, and Bucky knows his face is full of disbelief.  

“I’ve been giving self-defense lessons.  They take what they learn from me and take it back to their communities.

“But -” Bucky looks at Steve, trying to process what he’s saying. “But you have people coming through at all hours.  There were triplets!  I saw them!”

Laughing, Steve sits back in his chair.  “I knew their grandmother.  She called in a favor.”

“But…you don’t…I can hear you.”

Steve arches a brow.  “You’re making me think you might need a better workout partner, Buck.”

Bucky takes a long drink from his glass of wine, watching Steve watch him.

“You know,” he says, “I promised Tasha I’d stay through dessert.  What do you think about starting over?”

The smile that warms Steve’s face is downright unfair.  

“Depends,” he replies, and the grin deepens, as his voice takes on a wicked tinge.  “How do you feel about taking dessert to go?”

In the end, they don’t take dessert to go.  They finish their obnoxious meals over the course of several hours and leave the waiter a disgusting tip.  They take Steve’s bike back to the tower, and they part ways at the elevator with a handshake and warm smiles.

It was nice, Bucky thought.  It was nice, and it was warm, and Bucky did not get lost staring at Steve’s mouth a couple of times, losing the thread of what he was actually saying.

Still, Steve didn’t make a move at the elevator, so Bucky offered his hand, and the two of them parted ways.

Now though, it’s two in the morning and Bucky’s tossing and turning, trying to figure out what happened.  Was Steve just not into him?  Bucky knows he looks good.  He’s a top-level SHIELD agent, and he keeps his body fit.

Was it his personality?  As Bucky turns over in bed again, he can’t help but feel a little sad.  The biggest reason he didn’t want to meet Grant was because he was afraid that meeting him would mean an end to their friendship.

He didn’t want to be right.

Sighing, Bucky takes out his phone and scrolls through his past conversations with Grant.  It started as awkward bro jokes and memes, and then one day Grant said something about loneliness that resonated with Bucky.  After that, everything changed.

He misses it now. He knows that Grant would give him great advice about what to do next.

“Fuck it,” he says to the dark.

JBB: Need ur advice.  Had date tonight, went weird.

Grant:  How so?

JBB:  Thought we hit it off, but he didn’t even say he’d call me.  Just shook my hand.  Now it’s weird because I’m gonna see him all the time.  Turns out he’s my neighbor and coworker.  Bummer tho bc I really liked him.

Grant: You could move?  Change jobs?

JBB:  Ouch.

Grant: …

Grant: Maybe he was nervous?

JBB:  Of what?

Grant: Maybe he’s not sure what you want now?  Didn’t want to be pushy?

JBB:  Maybe I was hoping he would be.

This is ridiculous, Bucky thinks.  He throws his phone down on the bed and tosses off his covers.  He doesn’t care that he’s only in a thin t-shirt and boxer briefs.  He’s getting his kiss.

As he raises his fist to knock on Steve’s door, he’s startled as it opens in front of him.  

Steve looks like he’s been having a rough night as well.  He’s wearing running shorts and tank that looks at least two sizes too small.  His hair is smushed down in the front, but sticking up in the back, where he must have a cowlick.

“Buck,” he says, and that’s all he gets out before Bucky is right up in his space.

“What kind of jerk doesn’t even kiss his date goodnight?” Bucky says.

“What kind of punk lets him?” Steve asks, before sliding an arm around Bucky’s waist and pulling him closer.

Their lips meet for the first time, and it’s warm and soft and tentative, but then Steve makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, so Bucky pulls him closer, opens his mouth and licks into Steve’s.  Steve makes a noise that sounds curiously like “guh,” and then picks Bucky up, holding him by the backs of his thighs, kicking the front door closed and pinning Bucky against it.

It’s Bucky’s turn to say “guh,” after that.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Steve says and pulls Bucky in for another kiss.  

Bucky smiles into the kiss, then tightens his arms around Steve’s head and flexes his hips, rubbing himself up against what can only be Captain America’s full body salute.  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Bucky says.  

“You know,” Steve says, “I could really stand to brush up on my hand-to-hand skills.  We gotta keep it down though.  My neighbor’s a real tight-ass about the noise.”

“Rogers,” Bucky says.  “I’m considering it my patriotic duty to keep that bastard up all night.  You think you’re up for the challenge?”

“Oh, it is on,” Steve says, carrying Bucky back toward the bedrooms.

Several hours later…

“Jesus,” Bucky pants.  “Is that…?”  He looks toward the big window next to Steve’s bed, and the sky that’s pinking with the sunrise.  Bucky’s covered in sweat and come and lube, having found out, a few times, just what Captain America sounds like when he comes.  It is a sound distinctively different from the noises he makes when he works out, Bucky is proud to note.

“You did say,” Steve says, rolling Bucky onto his stomach then crawling over his back.  

“I know, but - oh, Jesus, Jesus, Steve, yes, there, that’s -”

“Christ, you’re so good.  Why is this so good?”

“I know, it’s so - yeah, that’s it.  Come on and fuck me, baby.  Fuck me harder.”

“Don’t wanna hurt - oh, oh, shit.”

“You won’t.  Come on - fuck yeah  - want me to show you how it’s done again?”

“God I’m gonna shut you up if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Then you’re gonna hafta - ah, ah, shit, yes!”

“Buck - Buck!”

A few hours, a hot shower and a change of sheets later, Steve opens his front door to collect the newspaper.  Next to it, he finds a thermos of hot coffee and a bag of pastries from his favorite bakery.  There’s a heart on the front of the bag, along with a single initial: N.  The cinnamon roll must be Bucky’s, Steve thinks, as he brings the lot into the house and joins a sleeping Bucky in bed.

“‘Nother hour,” Bucky mumbles, before curling into Steve’s embrace.  “‘Nother hour and you can blow me.”

Steve smiles and kisses the corner of Bucky’s mouth before closing his own eyes.  

He’s not entirely sure what the future will bring.  Once upon a time, he thought they’d have flying cars and would be living on Mars.  Now he’s met both aliens and gods, and the future is both more fantastic and more mundane than he could have imagined.  

But he never could have imagined Bucky Barnes - smart and funny, kind and lethal.  He’s known for a long time that he can count on James Barnes in the field.  But for the last few months, he’s gotten to know Bucky, and with every new revelation, he wants more.

Bucky snuffles in his sleep, kissing Steve’s pec before settling again.  Steve wraps his arms tight around Bucky and notices the way Bucky’s hands tighten, clinging to Steve in sleep.  

The future’s not all bad, Steve thinks, just before he slips down into sleep.  Not bad at all.


End file.
